Unfinished Business
by DarkSouls1922
Summary: When everything is over, there's only one place Harry would go.


He thought it would be obvious where he went when it was all over.

Impregnated clouds hung over the overcast skies, adding to the poignancy of the moment. It seemed it had been decades since his last visit a few months ago. He was no longer the guilt free teenager seeking salvation from his strenuous task.

He was now a man, a man whose conscience continually pulled him down, a mental warfare whose battleground was splattered with the blood of hundreds of friends.

He had expected jubilance upon victory. Glee that was unattainable by any other means other than completing your one mission in life.

Harry walked past the same fence, resisting the urge to touch it and witness its wondrous magic again, a testament unharmed by time. There would be time for that later.

The streets were strangely absent of any life whatsoever. No sapling grew from the odd crack in the asphalt. Bathilda Bagshot's grisly murder must have struck terror into the little village.

Bathilda Bagshot… It was strange that such an underdeveloped town could be home to events that shaped history…

Harry kicked open the gate to the cemetery. Rusty, it moved erratically before finally screeching to a halt, dangling precariously on its ancient hinges. Corrosion had eaten away the foundations of the gate. It had once been a proud entrance, Harry could tell that much. It was now reduced to a dissipating shadow of its former self.

"_Reparo!_" he said.

The door seemingly gained a mid of its own for a few seconds. It straightened, bringing its long broken top socket to its corresponding hinge. Metal flowed over, resealing the gate into its original position. The paint reformed, bringing alive brilliant hues that had long since faded.

It stood out, paranormal among its mundane surroundings.

Harry tested the gate, then wiped his palms on his jeans. Glancing quickly around, he strode towards the gravestones.

Hermione wasn't with him this time. Conjuring up flowers, he gently placed them in front of his mother's and father's graves. He knelt gently in front of the white stones, on the packed soil.

"I did it," he said, pausing as though the simple statement had taxed his literary powers.

"I did it. I killed the Dark Lord. Your murderer. This should be a time of widespread joy and celebrations. And it is." He paused. "For most people. I, Harry Potter, the Chosen One lived up to the expectations. I rid the world of the dark plague that had been corrupting it for decades. I've ensured that the children of the witches and wizards of our day will have children with long lives. Only – " he paused again. "Only there will be fewer kids this time around."

A mourning wind blew, arousing the newly born leaves of the trees with its lamentations. The silence around Harry escalated into Nature's own orchestrated symphony.

"Maybe you know that already. I was sick of being used by Dumbledore, and I let my hot head get in the way. Rationality gave way to impulses. Impulses led to mistakes. And mistakes led to deaths. Others tell me that I am not to blame. It was Voldemort's doing that removed the innocent trainees that were yet to strike a chord in the instrument that is the universe. Through my rebellion, I doomed children to horrific deaths before they could grow to fully-fledged men and women, masters in their own field."

"Perhaps in my own way, I am just as viable to be prosecuted as any Death Eater." A humourless chuckle. "The Ministry seems to want that. Apparently, if I have political ambitions, my popularity 'may cause a severe disruption in the proceedings of the ministry.' I'm being followed, chased everywhere, no time to myself, no personal bubble to languish in."

Harry was now rubbing the dirt, penetrating its uppermost soil with his finger.

"At times I wonder, why me? Why should I be the one with my parents dead? Why should I have survived? Why couldn't I die? And suddenly Dumbledore appears in my head: 'You are a part of a greater plan, Harry,' he says. What greater plan. WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?"

Harry took a several deep breaths. "There is too much burden on me and too few by my side. Everything that has happened to me seems planned, and I intend to find out who is at the bottom of this."

_And so…_, Harry thought. _I have another mission… Perhaps it was meant to be. But meant to be according to whom?_

He suddenly wished Hermione was still alive, more than ever. She had been his level-headed friend, helping him work his way out of the shady corners of his mind…but that was fantasy, wishes that Nagini had ruined on their visit.

_For Hermione…for Ron….and for Ginny….I must find out who planned this._


End file.
